


A Second Chance

by suzannahbee123



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Humor, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Avengers Endgame, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Light Angst, sad bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-04-08 11:17:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19106029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suzannahbee123/pseuds/suzannahbee123
Summary: Bucky Barnes’s life may be returned to him, but does he deserve it? Especially after what was lost in order for him to get it back. Kind and wise words are spoken to him, but only he can choose what to do with it.





	A Second Chance

Time. It was something that could drag along to the point where you thought your every breath was as slow and torturous as wading through molasses, or it ran ahead of you, whole hours, or days, or even _years_ disappearing into smoke and leaving you with just distorted memories and hazy feelings.

James Buchanan Barnes was all too familiar with the fickle thing that was time.

His blue eyes stared at the red numbers of the alarm clock on the nightstand next to his bed. Well, not _his_ bed. It was the spare bed in the spare room in the recently inhabited apartment of Sam Wilson. The man Bucky had, several times, tried to kill in some of the _many_ wrecked and questionable memories from… Before.

The red numbers blinked and changed, from 07.59 to 08.00. Sighing, Bucky rolled to his back, he could’ve _sworn_ that the time had been 05.00 just a minute ago.

This was what it was like now though, time was always his enemy _again._ Five whole years had been stolen from him (not as many as seventy whole years but, hey, _that_ was old news now, right?), and those years, those sixty months, that half a _decade,_ had seemed like some strange orange tinted fever dream, not too dissimilar to the ones he thinks he had back in… Well, time in _that_ place that had apparently been the Soul Stone, it had all gone in the blink of an eye and yet, at the same time, every lonely and terrified second was scorched into his brain, each one as long as lifetime.

Five years gone in the same amount of time it took for him to stand up again after a man in weird mythical garb told him that the fight was continuing elsewhere. Bucky hadn’t even realised he had died, could barely recall his arm and body disappearing before his very eyes. It was just so _rushed._

Five years gone, one half of life restored to the universe, and all Bucky could do was watch time march forwards on those shiny red numbers. Being back hadn’t helped anything. There had been _one_ thing he had wanted to do when he had finally felt strong enough to leave Wakanda… And that opportunity had been robbed from him. Today was the day that Bucky’s final chance at absolution was being laid to rest.

“Bucky? You up? We gotta long drive, man and I _know_ you and that mane of yours will take a whole age in the shower!”

The sound of Sam’s deep and irritated voice from behind the closed bedroom door stirred something akin to aggravated fondness in Bucky’s heart, but he wasn’t in the mood for jokes, “I don’t need to shower if I’m not going, Sam! You get in there, I know how long you take to moisturise!” There was a pause, far too loaded with all the things Sam clearly wanted to say, and Bucky huffed, “Sam! Don’t you have some facial hair to wax?!”

The door flew open and Sam, clad in just a terry cloth robe and a furious scowl marched in, completely uncaring that Bucky had leapt to his feet defensively at the intrusion, “You can’t not go, Barnes! It’s the _funeral!_ Everyone is going! How the hell will it look if you aren’t there, too?”

“If I’m _not_ there?!” Bucky scoffed disbelievingly at his new friend and, very likely, constant pain in the ass, “Sam, you know how that man felt about me, _and_ why. I’m not going because _that_ would be an insult to that man’s memory,”

“Bucky,” Sam started, taking a deep breath, “that was _then_ -”

“I’m not welcome and I never will be. I can’t go to his funeral and look his wife and daughter in the eye knowing that I was the one who took that man’s whole family away from him. I can’t go, I don’t deserve it.”

Sam glowered but started backing out of the door, “That _man_ had a name and it was Tony Stark, you ignorant drama queen. That man died for everyone, not just for you. You know what? For someone who has the type of memory problems you do, you sure like to hold onto the worst ones and use them to define yourself.” The words stung a little, making Bucky’s shoulders hunch defeatedly, but Sam apparently wasn’t done yet, “But, whatever, man. I won’t be the guy that forces you to do something you ain’t comfortable with. Just remember, asshole, your second chance to redeem yourself didn’t die with Tony, it’ll only die with that stubborn will of yours.”

Sam slammed the door on his way out, leaving Bucky alone with just his thoughts and that damn alarm clock. The numbers still shone bright even after Bucky threw it against the wall, taunting him with time that he was now wasting.

***

Bucky needed to get out, to not be trapped in the room anymore, so he threw on some black jeans, black t-shirt and a black jacket and left, wishing he were back in Wakanda where he knew all the secret places he could get lost in and find peace and quiet.

Except, he was free now, right? Whilst he had been gone-

_You mean dead_

Steve had worked on his case to get his name cleared posthumously, so that the name James Buchanan Barnes would no longer be on a Most Wanted list, and now Bucky could walk freely, as an alive man who wasn’t wanted for anything more than a possible speeding ticket.

Just because Bucky’s name was cleared now, didn’t mean he was _free._ How could he ever let go of the past? He hadn’t done anything to earn it yet and there had only been the one man that he had wanted forgiveness from…

Bucky stopped at the treeline, he saw Sam waiting at the curb, looking at his watch and shrugging at the guy who was driving the car to take him to the funeral. Why they were waiting, Bucky had no idea, it was going to take ages to get to that cabin, they were cutting it close…

“Bucky? I mean, Sergeant Barnes? That is you, isn’t it?”

Spinning so fast he almost fell, Bucky came face to face with a pair of tired looking blue eyes framed by golden, almost red, blonde hair. Pepper Potts.

“Sam said you went for a walk, to get out of coming today.”

“I- I-”

“You’re coming. Everyone who knew Tony, who _wanted_ to know Tony is there. All the heroes that fought by his side will be there. You _were_ one of those.”

“I’m not,” Bucky rushed out, before he could think of all the ways he _shouldn’t_ be talking about this to the wife of the man who died for everyone else, who died for _him,_ “I’m not a hero, Ma’am, and Ton- your husband- he knew that, and-”

“Are you an employee of mine, Sergeant Barnes?” Pepper asked impatiently and making Bucky’s heart race, “Or a telephone salesman?”

“I- uh… no?”

“No, you’re not, so do not call me Ma’am. You’re quite a bit older than me, for one thing and it feels weird. For another, I fought next to you on that battlefield, we’re equals, yes?”

Bucky blinked.

There was another awkward pause where Pepper Potts seemed to wait for Bucky to do something and he shifted awkwardly, “Ummm… I’m very sorry for- I mean- if you n-need anything-”

“Thank you, Sergeant Barnes,”

“You can call me Bucky,”

Pepper smiled then, easing some of the mounting tension in Bucky’s muscles, and she nodded, “Thank you, Bucky. Well? Shall we go? I mean, this patch of trees is lovely, but I do kind of have to be at this funeral. It’s expected,”

“Ms Potts-”

“Mrs Stark, but, just call me Pepper, please?”

“ _Pepper,”_ Bucky started again, “I can’t go to his funeral. Mr Stark wouldn’t have wanted me there, you know that. And, besides,” Bucky pressed when she opened her mouth, “I’m not dressed for a funeral and you’re running late,”

Pepper rolled her eyes heavenward, her blue eyes glittering with sudden unshed tears and Bucky dropped his head, unable to stand the fact that he had caused her to cry before her husband’s funeral because of _his_ problems.

“Okay. So, around eighteen months ago, when Steve was campaigning for your name to be cleared, there was a moment, a few days, where, for reasons that I can’t really remember, it looked like Steve would lose. Your name would forever be associated with HYDRA and what they forced you to do, and no one would really care because you were dead anyway.”

Bucky had heard all of this from Steve and Okoye. He had no idea why Pepper was talking about it now. The blonde haired woman held his gaze, all tears dried up again and she wore an almost serene smile,

“I was keeping up with the news, I tried a few times myself to get them to change their minds, but _Ross,”_ Peppers lip curled in apparent distaste, “he just wouldn’t hear of it. All the mistakes that man made, in his _own_ right mind, and he couldn’t move on from yours, when so much evidence proved that you weren’t in yours… anyway, I went to bed this one night, tossing and turning about what the outcome would be, and when I woke up, that was the news. You were cleared. All charges dropped.”

“Thank you, Pepper,” Bucky could have dropped to his knees in gratitude, that she would do that for him…

“No, Bucky, you don’t understand. _I_ didn’t manage it. Tony did.”

Bucky felt shock shoot through him, rooting him to the spot and stealing his breath. He couldn’t form a word if he tried. _Tony_ had done that… for him.

Pepper carefully stepped forward and placed her hands on his upper arms, her height meaning she could meet his eyes head on, “I know what happened in Siberia, Bucky. I know what Tony saw and what he did and what Steve did… I know Tony hated The Winter Soldier, but he didn’t hate _you._ Tony knew what it was like to be manipulated and hated, and he changed for the better. He wanted that for you, because secretly, he never gave up hope that somehow you would all come back and you would have the second chance that he got fourteen years ago, besides,” Pepper smiled fully and stepped back, giving him his space, “I think he would’ve liked to have bragged to you that you got your freedom because of him,”

Bucky felt a tear fall, but he didn’t brush it away, instead he smiled, for what felt like the first time since… well, Wakanda, really, and nodded, “I really am _not_ dressed for a funeral, Pepper. My ma would box my ears for turning up looking like this,”

“Well, if it’s any consolation to your ma’s memory,” Pepper walked towards to the car, keeping Bucky at her side, “I think Tony would have appreciated you being comfortable there, and he would’ve _loved_ that jacket.”

***

Tony’s memorial was surprisingly understated, but then, as Bucky thought to himself ruefully, he didn’t know the man very well so who was he to judge?

The friends and family attending the funeral were allowed to say their goodbyes before the official “ceremony”, and so far, all Bucky had been able to do was stand silently and watch as everyone else murmured words and shed quiet tears.

Rocket had dropped several shiny bits of tech onto the stand that showcased so many pictures from Tony’s life, and then jumped down from the raised platform, nodding at Bucky as he walked back out of the room, “Just don’t feel right keeping it all now, y’know? How’s that arm?”

“Good, thanks,”

“Catch ya, _and_ that arm, later, Bucky,”

He was finally alone with the memory of Tony Stark, Sam and Steve had left long before, and Bucky took a soft step towards all those pictures, all those smiling faces of Tony from throughout his life, feeling his heart constrict at how similar Tony looked to the Howard Stark that he remembered… how much he could see that Morgan was already a mirror image-

“I am Drax,”

His metal arm reached for the knife at his back before Bucky could fully process what it was he was doing, and he spun to face the threat that had managed to sneak up on him. He stopped dead, face scrunched up in a snarl and breathing far too calmly for the way his heart was racing, and faced the grey skinned alien (man? Male? Being introduced to aliens was both amazing and terrifying. Bucky had never considered how awkward addressing a whole different species would be),

“Your _name_ is Drax?” Bucky slowly stepped back from the large male and lowered his arm away from the small knife, “I didn’t hear you-”

“I am very stealthy. I have unwittingly caused heart attacks in many men because of it,”

“Oh. Well, I’m Bucky,”

“That is a ridiculous name.” Drax remarked, completely, and oddly, without any sense of mocking in his voice, and Bucky turned to the coffin again with a shrug,

“Yeah, well,” Bucky muttered defensively, “so is Drax.”

“I did not know Tony Stark well. Or, for very long.” Drax also turned to face the coffin, his hands on his hips, “His battle planning was not particularly good, and his metal armour was adequate at best,”

“I think his armour was _actually-_ ”

“But this poorly defended man was a great hero. I am alive, again, because of his sacrifice and I will always be grateful to him. This is why I wear this shirt,” Drax gestured to the dark grey tunic and faced Bucky again, not a single line of humour on his face, “I will honour his strength and bravery by wearing this, even though it chafes my incredibly sensitive nipples.”

“I… he would probably laugh at that. I also think he would create something specifically for your…” Bucky gestured vaguely to his chest, feeling a bit awkward now he said it, obviously had no idea if Tony Stark would laugh at the aliens predicament, _or_ if he would help the man with his issue, but it felt _right_ , and he softly chuckled at the thought.

“Hmmm… I hope to see you again, Bucky.” And with that, Drax left. Bucky looked around to make sure he was _really_ alone, before turning once more to the platform and the face of Tony Stark,

“I don’t know what to say to you, Tony. You are the reason I am here, why we are _all_ here. I have no idea why you did what you did to help me, and I guess I never will. I _wish_ I could change things. I would change _everything_ that happened, if I could. I wish you hadn’t had to pay the price for all of us.”

A weight settled over Bucky, but it wasn’t a bad weight, exactly. It was like a blanket being draped over his shoulders, warm and comforting _because_ of how heavy it was, _because_ it was needed to feel cared for again. To remind him that he was _real,_ and deserving of the comfort it provided, “I don’t know how to be like you, like Steve or Sam, or Natasha. Even when I _was_ that guy, I never really wanted to be, you know? I was there for Stevie, because the big ape never knew when to back down. I never wanted that life… and I never wanted the one after it, but it’s something that, no matter what, I have to live with, because taking any kind of easy way out would be an insult to those I-”

Bucky cut himself off, letting the tear fall once more. He wouldn’t allow more, not here. Where ever Tony was, wherever Natasha was, they died so that he would live _this_ life, not cry over the one that was left decades in the past.

“I can’t take it back. I can’t change what I did, Tony. But you gave me this chance, you _knew_ that I would have this chance, so… I’m going to take it. I promise not to waste my life. Thank you for giving it to me.”

Bucky looked at one of the smaller pictures at the back, what looked like a selfie taken with Tony, Pepper and Morgan, all identical smiles and sunshine, and he smiled back at them, feeling something like hope bloom in his chest, and all because of the man who made his own mistakes and spent the rest of his life making the world a better place because of it. Placing his hand on the wooden platform, right next to the arc reactor case Pepper had once made for her love, Bucky whispered, “Rest in peace, Tony Stark.”


End file.
